The Crippled God

him.
    He grunted when he finally succeeded. The sword slid into the scabbard slung under his left arm. He turned round, walked towards Faint. Pale skin, chiselled features, black hair, depthless eyes. As he neared her, he spoke in Daru. ‘Where he came from, every god is a Shield Anvil. Woman, have you lost your mind?’
    She opened her mouth for a denial, a rush of protest, but then he was walking past her. She turned, stared after him. South? What’s down there? Where are you going? No, never mind, Faint .
    Gods below, what have I just witnessed?
    Her gaze returned to the sundered forehead surmounting the hill. The wound in its centre was visible even from this distance. It had nearly split the giant skull in half.
    She slowly sank to her knees. A god. That was a god. Were they both gods? Did one just murder the other? She realized that she had wet herself. One more reek to clash with all the others. Drawing a shaky breath, she lowered her head. ‘Sweetest Sufferance, I’m sorry. She warned me against it. I’m sorry, Sweetie. Please forgive me.’
    She would, in a while, set out to find Amby and Precious Thimble.
    But not yet. Not quite yet .

    Ublala watched her tying up her bedroll. ‘Where are you going? We should wait. He said to wait.’
    She bared her teeth but did not look at him. ‘He is a demon. When he runs out of things to hunt, he’ll kill and eat us.’
    ‘No he won’t. He’s nice. Draconus is nice, my love—’
    ‘Don’t call me that.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Be quiet. Give me back my knife.’
    ‘I can’t. You might stab me.’
    ‘I won’t. I’m leaving you both. I’m going home.’
    ‘Home? Where is that? Can I come?’
    ‘Only if you can swim,’ she said. ‘Now, at least the knife. And if you love me the way you say you do, you’ll give me the rest of my weapons too.’
    ‘I’m not supposed to.’
    Venom blazed in her eyes. ‘You’re awake. You’re holding that club. I can’t hurt you. Unless you’re a coward, Ublala. I can’t love cowards – they disgust me.’
    He hunched down. ‘Just because I’m scared of you don’t mean I’m a coward. I once fought five Teblor gods.’
    ‘Of course you did. Cowards always lie.’
    ‘And I fought against the Fangs of Death and all those tusked warriors liked me – no, that wasn’t me. At least, I don’t think it was.’ He stared at the mace. ‘But I killed Dalk. I killed a dragon. It was easy – no, it wasn’t. It was hard, I think. I can’t remember.’
    ‘No end to all the lies.’
    ‘You’re right,’ he said, suddenly glum. ‘No end to them.’
    ‘Give me my weapons.’
    ‘If I do you’ll die.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You’ll leave us, and there’s no food out here unless Draconus gets it for us. You’ll starve. I can’t.’
    ‘Am I your prisoner? Is that how you like it, Ublala? You want a slave?’
    He looked up at her. ‘Can I sex you any time if you’re my slave?’
    ‘That’s not love,’ she said.
    ‘It’s been so long,’ he replied, ‘I suppose I’ll take sex instead of love. See what’s happened to me?’
    ‘Fine. I’ll lie with you, if you give me my weapons afterwards.’
    Ublala clutched his head. ‘Oh, you’re confusing me!’
    She advanced on him. ‘Agree to my offer, Ublala, and I’m yours—’ She stopped abruptly, turned away.
    He stared after her. ‘What’s wrong? I agree! I agree!’
    ‘Too late,’ she said. ‘Your friend’s back.’
    Ublala twisted round to see Draconus approaching. ‘He’s no friend of mine,’ he muttered. ‘Not any more.’
    ‘Too crowded, these Wastelands,’ she said.
    ‘Then leave us,’ Torrent replied. ‘We won’t miss you.’
    In answer, Olar Ethil picked up Absi once more, by the scruff of his neck. ‘We have rested enough,’ she said.
    ‘Stop carrying him like that,’ said Torrent. ‘He can ride with me.’
    Her neck creaked as she turned to regard him. ‘Attempt to flee and I will catch you, pup.’
    Torrent glanced across at the twins, who huddled together near the ring of stones where they had tried making a fire the night before. ‘I won’t do that,’ he said.
    ‘Sentimentality will see the death of you,’ said the Bonecaster. ‘Come here. Take the child.’
    He strode over. When he reached for the boy, Olar Ethil’s skeletal hand snapped out. Torrent was dragged close, pulled up until his eyes were less than a hand’s breadth from her broken face.
    ‘ Call upon no gods in this place ,’ she hissed.